


It Began with a Temple Burning

by spacego



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen, Humor, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacego/pseuds/spacego
Summary: Artemis takes temple arson very seriously. But what if the arsonist is her own father? And what's with that pesky obstructionist rabbit?





	

When Alexander was about to be born, Zeus threw a grand pre-party like Olympus had never seen since... the day before (it's party day, every day, in case you haven't noticed). But everybody could tell that Zeus was extraordinarily happy that day. The way his eyes danced with laughter. The way little bolts of lightning sparked from his fingertips. 

Then the door to the Great Hall of Olympus burst open. The latest round of victory dance ground to a screeching halt. A pissed off Artemis strode straight at her father. The usually beautiful, impeccable, serene virgin goddess of the hunt, was... beautiful in her rage, impeccably furious if ever that was a thing. Looking every inch a virgin in heat, and on a furious hunt. 

"Dad," she called out. "What is this god-king thing nonsense you're on about now?" Was it his straying pecker again? Hera looked like she'd spent the night sucking lemons in the corner. 

"Oh... Baby Alexander? The bestest baby to be born since... er.. today." Because tomorrow would be another day. His gaze darted around the room, looking at everything and everyone who was not named Hera, who was like a barely contained raging inferno. 

"Well? Are you going to tell me what's so special about him?" 

"For one, he's going to the best conqueror the the world will ever see," Zeus was warming up to launch into a protracted explanation like the proud non-babyfather he was, when Artemis sharply lifted her hand to silence her father and liege. "Until the next one comes along, that is," his voice petered out. Such was her anger that he slammed his jaw shut immediately. 

"No, I don't think I made myself clear. What's so special about this damned baby that you have to burn my temple down?!" 

Only then that the onlookers realized how sooty she was. She smelled like the inside of Hephaestus's forge at its busiest. Streaks of soot in her hair, on her face like war paint, and oh how had they missed the sight of her singed dress? Her most favorite dress too!

Earlier that day, she had been on her way to fulfill her father's invitation when she heard the tearful, fearful plea of her most devout priests and followers.

Heart aching with compassion and curiosity, she had gone down to earth to check up on her beloved followers, thinking that she could, in all her goddessly wisdom, solve whatever it was, and still return to her father's party with more than enough time to spare. 

Upon arriving, she saw fire. It wasn't a big one, someone had tried to bring down the roof of her beloved temple. She assessed the damage and decided that it should be easy enough to repair. Then she'd bring down a goddess's wrath upon the pitiful arsonist. But she hadn't the time to put any of her plans into motion when an almighty lightning bolt struck. The whole building collapsed into a huge pile of ash before her very eyes.

That had not been any ordinary lightning bolt, the kind usually produced by phalanx of minuscule sky-spirits charging at one another during celestial battle exercises.

She recognized that lightning bolt anywhere! That lightning bolt belonged to... her miserable father! 

Then, a smaller bolt of lightning appeared and caught the edge of her dress. She decided she wasn't going to test her immortality by standing around like a hapless lightning rod, so she hightailed it back up the Olympus. But not before instructing the Ephesians to deal the most painful death imaginable upon the damned arsonist, to punish him for his undeserved infamy and also Zeus's folly.

She grumbled all the way to her father's palace, her irritation festered and grew. Had her father been really angry at her for missing his party? She's not even late! Well, not _that_ late in any case.

 

******

"Well, I am so sorry my dear," Zeus tried to placate his daughter. "I was overcome. I must've gotten too excited!"

Then the king of all gods drew her to the scrying mirror, to show her that mortal baby he was so proud of. "You'll forgive your old man and go help his birth, won't you?" He then swore its not his progeny, despite what the woman in the mirror was saying, but Hera was not convinced.

Hera made a snide remark, and soon a mighty row rose up into the air. Eris was ecstatic and so was Ares. Somewhere along the line, they managed to put down a future full of war and fighting.

Artemis found herself quickly elbowed to the sidelines. She watched helplessly as the gods and goddesses began swearing one thing or another. Shining glory. Rivers of blood. Love, lust, and loss. The highest of joys, the blackest pits of despair.

Every god and goddess thought they were so clever with their turn of speech and over-the-top pledging.

The Moirais had been reduced into mere scribes, only with thread and spindle instead of pen and paper, rushing to keep up with god-spoken oaths being thrown around. Because the gods swore them, they must be spun. Even the Moirai weren't sure where that dumb rule came from.

From where Artemis was standing, it looked like they were spinning disaster.

Meanwhile, she still smelled like a bonfire. Her make up was a mess. Her dress still damaged. Her temple still in ruins.

Zeus managed a strangled "Daughter, please go now! It is time!" before a stray goblet flew across the room narrowly missing the King of God's godly brow, which started another round of quarreling.

That bloody mortal better be worth it, Artemis thought huffily, stomping out of the Great Hall. 

 

****** 

Inside the Macedonian Queen's inner sanctum was a beehive of activity.

"So, what is your job here, actually?" Dionysus asked, disguised as a stately middle-aged woman, though he couldn't much disguise the smell of a wine cellar.

"Keeping an eye on things," replied Artemis in her old woman disguise.

"How dull," Dionysus remarked idly. Zeus had not sent him, but he came anyway. He said that the Queen was a devoted follower of his.

"Yes, it can be sometimes," Artemis suspected that one of her nymphs had once again caught his eyes. This time, however, she would stop him. Contrary to what was the chattering masses thought, she did mourn the loss of her Nikaea to the lecherous Dionysus.

Outside, a nervous king was wearing down a hole in the corridor.

 

******

The baby's birth seemed anti-climatic, bordering on boring, in Artemis's opinion. After a lengthy contraction, the whole expelling of the fetus went rather swimmingly.

Peering down at the tired Queen and the lustily shrieking baby, she confirmed for herself that the mother and baby were well. Just so she could report back to Zeus that she'd done her job. Dionysus would second her on that.

She needed a good hunt, she decided. A good ride and a good hunt would do her frayed nerves some good.

While the goddess had been ensconced inside, her nymphs had scouted the Macedonian royal hunting grounds in Pella, and they had been told of sovereign's fondness of it.

The verdict sounded promising, but she had to see for herself. Which she did, in a flash. The Amnisiades nymphs in her retinue praised the babbling brooks and streams, and her Okeanids tried to sweeten her enough so she would let them visit their cousins at sea.  

_It's not so shabby_ , Artemis thought as she cast her gaze about the place.

A rabbit crossed her path. And ignored her in its haste.

Scarcely had the rabbit cleared the farthest tree that a huge commotion reached her ears--whistles of arrows and hoofbeats. Hunters? She wondered and decided to take a look.

Swinging swords and overturned carts disabused her of her initial wondering, however. Rather than the Macedonian king engaged on a royal hunt of thanksgiving, a tableau of a bandit-besieged merchant retinue played out before her.

At any other time, she might deign to help, or at least observe further. But she had been nursing a sour mood and had no desire to attend to trifling human problems.

She turned away from the scene, as a small wagon caught fire, and a child's wail rose above the shouts. If they were fortunate, she thought, some other deity might look upon them and send them deliverance. Unfortunately for them, she would not be that deity this time.

Her retinue followed her as she traced her path down to a grotto, where she would wash the muck of childbirth, relax a while, then hunt.

 

******

It must be that cursed rabbit again, she thought, as fluffy ball of a thing trundled across the path of her pursuit. It almost tripped her in its haste, perhaps scared into action by the commotion of Artemis's hunting party. She'd drive an arrow through its heart the next time she saw it, she told herself.

They were pursuing their quarry by foot, a large wild boar with an astonishing agility not often found in such creatures. Which made it worth hunting for.

Perhaps, she thought, she would not deal a mortal blow on it. Perhaps she would keep it as her own.

But first, she had to win it.

 

******

It wasn't long before they managed to corner the boar into a copse of trees, though they deliberately pulled back to extend the chase.

She lifted her bow and arrow, ready to claim the winning shot, when a blur appeared between her and the boar. That damned rabbit again? Was her first furious thought. But the one that had rushed out of a bush like the devil was chasing him, the one with tow-colored hair and big blue fearful eyes was definitely not any rabbit she had ever seen.

Her arrow never missed, and with the boy frozen in mid-run, right in the arrow's path, it would be deadly.

Artemis was not one for panicking; she was a goddess, wasn't she? So she merely let another arrow fly to chase down its deadlier mate, until both fell harmlessly at the scared human child's foot, one piercing through and breaking the other.

It was a human boy, she thought, studying the fearful boy who was trying valiantly not to cry, even as he stared at the arrows at his feet, ones that would've claimed his life if they were loosened from someone else's bow.

The boar was smart and took the reprieve shamelessly, bounding away with so much relief you'd think that it had once been human.

With her attendants behind her, she made her way to the little boy.

A rabbit bounded in to view, across, and away. 

 


End file.
